CBF’s Baxley issues statement following New Zealand mosque shootings

CBFblog

March 15, 2019

By CBF Communications

Cooperative Baptist Fellowship Executive Coordinator Paul Baxley released the following statement after the death of 49 Muslim worshipers in a terrorist attack during Friday prayers at two mosques in Christchurch, New Zealand.

While details are still unfolding about this tragic event, we have been stopped in our tracks by the evil inflicted upon so many at the Al Noor and Linwood mosques. Our hearts ache for the victims and their families, and we offer support, love, prayer and a pledge of solidarity in the wake of all-too-frequent violence.

 These attacks happened seemingly a world away, but we are also faced with questions closer to home. How are we reaching out to exemplify the Fruits of the Spirit to all people in our own communities, especially those who may believe and worship differently than we do? In a world too often marked by violent…

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A Pastor’s Reading List for 2019

Photo by Stanislav Kondratiev

By Joe LaGuardia

I have made it a habit, as other pastors have, of publishing an annual reading list.  It is made up of books that we long to read, hope to read, want to read, need to read.  I have fun reading the lists of others, and I hope that people have fun reading mine.

This year I want to do it differently.  In years past, I viewed my list as a challenge–if it is listed, then I should read it.  Here I am four years writing a list, and I still haven’t read Moby Dick.  So, this year I am going to take the fun out of the list and only add books that I read.  This serves my readers in two ways: First, it lets readers know what I am reading for real.  Second, it holds a modicum of suspense.  You’ll just need to wait and see what I am going to read next!

So here are the books I am reading–as I read them!–in 2019:

1.  God Underneath, by Edward Brock.  I found this memoir by a Catholic priest in the shadowy (not seedy!) corner of my local used book store.  When I visit the store, I don’t spend much time in the religion section; just enough to see what Bibles are in stock.  This one particular day, a worker a who knows me and is in charge of the religion section told me that a large donation of Catholic books came in.  Brock’s moving book, of his upbringing to his discernment in the priesthood and eventual ministry, was among them.  His contention is that whatever comes our way, we can find God underneath it all if we only have the spiritual awareness to see the Spirit at work!  As one who loves memoirs, I really enjoyed this book.

2.  A Long Obedience in the Same Direction, by Eugene Peterson.  This book by the famed (and now late) Message Bible translator is said to be a classic.  I thought it was a memoir.  It is a classic to many pastors, but it certainly isn’t a memoir.  It is, instead, a book on the Psalms of Ascent.  Peterson’s writing is concise and spiritually uplifting; his exegesis and care in interpreting the text more so, but I would not call it a classic.  I have to admit, I ran out of gas before I finished the book.  Its not that it isn’t good; its just not what I expected.

3.  Philosophy of History, by William Dray.  This was yet another find at the used book store.  I have gotten into the habit of picking up quirky books that are easy or slim reads, and Dray’s concise introduction to the philosophy of history is no different.  This subject is not a first for me; I took a philosophy of history course in college as part of my history major (I remember well: the great, late Dr. Hembree was an amazing teacher, gone to be with the Lord at too young an age).  The book was wordy and not very well-written, but helped me remember some of those hold history philosophy debates we had back in the day.

One thing I did learn: Arnold Toynbee, who wrote a mutlivolume work called A Study of History, concluded perhaps naively, that the one unifying factor in the downfall of civilizations was the eventual decline of creativity and an entrepreneurial spirit–kind of like the first step towards an “idiocracy.”  Toynbee is on to something.  Might there be something for the church to learn–that once a church ceases to be creative, missional, and entrepreneurial, death is imminent?

4.  A Preface to Scripture, by Solomon Freehof.  Yet another used-book store find, but a treasure if there ever was one.  This is among one of my favorites so far in the past year (I started this book last year and have been slowly, deliciously making my way through it).  It is an introduction to the Old Testament written from a Jewish, rabbinic point of view (Freeman is a reputable Reformed rabbi of rabbis), written specifically for Christians.  His historical portraits and commentary on all the books of the First Testament are traditionally rabbinic, but provide fresh and creative readings along the way.  I am learning (1) where some of our own (Christian) interpretations of scripture come from and their Jewish roots; and (2) how rabbis have read scripture–and can contribute to our reading of scripture–before we, as a religious tradition, were even using the word “scripture” to begin with.  Every page is a learning experience–and I’m learning things new about the Bible along the way, not something that can be said often from a bookish nerd like me.

A Reader’s Life (prt. 16): Words that Defy

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By Joe LaGuardia

A Reading Life is a blog series focused on the literature that has shaped my life and call to ministry. Find the introduction here.

The greatness of writing–and the power of a word–is measured by how well that word (and, when I say “word,” I mean it metaphorically as a body of work or writing) defies other words.  A meaningful word lingers and lasts; it pierces or inspires.  A powerful word bears fruit, sometimes violently or without regard to our sensibilities.  The Bible says that God’s word, which has the power to create and destroy and shape, does not come back void.  It defies competing narratives.

My favorite writers have accomplished this feat in their writing.  Among them is Barbara Brown Taylor, the Episcopal priest turned writer and spiritual guide.  Her books, namely Leaving Church and An Altar in the World, have impacted me with a word that lasts, that refuses to come back void.   Her writing resonates.  It spelunks in the heart.  It is like a sonar that sends signals to map an unknown landscape, that penetrates the soul to lay out a geography of the spiritual life.

Other authors have had this powerful sway over me–Annie Dillard and Henri Nouwen stand out.  They write in a way in which the writing itself is a spiritual exercise.  They do not write about something so much as write from within that experience of the thing itself.  Like mystics of old, their writing–that slow, often time painful process of putting one word in front of another, and one sentence upon the other– is the spiritual experience itself.

I have reflected on my preaching as a result of this lesson.  When I preach, do I merely talk about God, or do I express my experience of God?

Some say you can do both, but I am not so sure.  I hear many sermons about God; but few have the courage or prophetic power to preach from within the experience.  This morning I read Ezekiel 4.  God asked Ezekiel to act out a prophetic word of judgment against Israel and Judah by making a clay tablet picture of the city under siege.  God told him to lie on his side every day for over a year.

When God told Ezekiel to eat a scroll the chapter before, it wasn’t just to regurgitate it, it was to feast on it, find nourishment, embody it, and take on its physical presence.  No wonder that John says that when God visited us in the person of Jesus, it was God’s creative Word taking on flesh.

I think this is why Taylor’s writing is so poignant.  It comes from two avenues of experience–the author as artist, and the preacher as homiletician.  Taylor has taught both subjects — from her full-time work at Piedmont College in the north Georgia foothills, to her adjunct work teaching preaching at Emory University and elsewhere in the urban milieu of Atlanta.  I am going to a conference next week to see her give a presentation on “How I Have Changed my Mind About Preaching” at Mercer University.  I am bringing her latest book, Learning to Walk in the Dark to get her signature.  I look forward to receiving God’s word from her yet again.

We writers have a bad habit of trying to mimic our favorite authors.  Rarely does this work out; it comes off as phony or insincere.  I did this once.  I wanted to write like Taylor–pen and paper in hand, I wanted to hand-write my next book like she does her own.  And I wanted to write like Dillard–not merely talk about something, but write poetic prose that penetrates the very thing in my experiences of it.

I tried this (spiritual) practice–mainly at the beach.  I brought my spiral notebook and my mechanical pencil.  I sat for long periods of time watching the waves and my children looking for seashells, trying to craft each sentence with love, care, and wonder.  I paused, watched the hasty activity and listened to the conversation of the sandpipers so ubiquitous on our coast.  And I wrote.

I wrote for about a dozen or so pages on different topics over the course of a month– on fatherhood, spirituality, vocation, ministry.   Then, I fizzled out.  It didn’t sound right, it didn’t feel right, and it was not even worth transferring the material into my journal.  I buried the notebook in one of my desk drawers at home.  I pull it out sometimes if I need paper to write a sermon, otherwise it remains hidden.

Powerful words are such because they do defy other words.  Writers know the hardships of having so many words–too many, in fact–fall to the ground, shrivel and die.  Yet, there are those beautiful moments–in an article or a sermon that sounds just right, when the word goes out and never returns.  It spreads its wings and leaves the nest, and finds its way into someone else’s heart to build a nest there and give birth to something new.  It is beautiful, like Taylor’s and Dillard’s writing; but it is a rare word indeed.  Most of the time, our words remain hidden in our desk.